Category Archives: My Memoirs

ADVERSITY CAN BE A GOOD SCHOOL

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Catholic Elementary School

I’m older than most of the people who may be reading this, but still, I think my experiences may resonate with some of you at some level. I believe that the experiences I had and endured made me the person I ultimately became. When I was quite young in elementary school, I can remember making the decision to be true to myself at a young age. Even if that meant some people didn’t like me, including some of my family members. In a way, I became my own best friend.

The fact is that I’m not your run-of-the-mill person. I never follow the crowd. I didn’t try to fit in. I don’t and never felt the need to follow trends. I attended Catholic Parochial School, which means that I was forced o wear a uniform and shoes that everyone else wore. And woe be him or her who didn’t obey those rules and regulations.

I followed the rules regarding wearing the uniforms, including the hideous shoes, and wore a beanie. I didn’t have a choice. But, I didn’t agree with or follow all the rules regarding believing every word taught by the nuns. I was a quiet child, but I had my own mind and my own thoughts, and they often conflicted with the rules and the punishment that the nuns subjected children to in the 1960s. We were told in Church and our classrooms that wherever two or more of us gathered, there would be love. That certainly was not true in my experience for the twelve years I attended Catholic school.

I was a quiet child in the classroom. But, outside the classroom, I was always making jokes and telling tall stories to my friends and anyone who would listen. I’ve always had a highly active imagination.

Because I had a tendency to joke around with m fellow students, I found myself being hit with rulers with metal edges and being put in the boiler room for hours by the nuns. Or worst of all, being ridiculed in front of the class if I was asked a question. My mind would often go blank when I was asked a question out of the blue. And I would just stand there, struck dumb.

After twelve long years of these types of experiences, I developed the mindset of a prisoner of war. I recall one experience when I was in fourth grade. Sister Joseph Catherine, who was teaching us, called me up to Blackboard and asked me to complete the arithmetic problem. I was so frightened that I couldn’t think straight.

high school graduation picture

Susan Culver- high school graduation picture

And she yelled at me, came up behind me, grabbed me by my ponytail, and slammed my head repeatedly into the blackboard. After that, I tried to keep myself on guard against any type of behavior that might draw attention to myself around people with whom I was unfamiliar. People always described me as shy, but I wasn’t shy. I was protecting myself.

Some of my school experiences helped develop my imagination. For instance, this was a release from my everyday experiences that I had no control over. We had to go to confession on the First Friday of the month. As a child, I didn’t believe I really committed any mortal or venial sins as the nuns suggested that we all did. So, the week before I had to go to Confession, I used to spend some time making up some “good” sins to tell the priest in the confessional. I did this every first Friday of every month for the eight years that I attended Catholic grade school. Father Nolan (the priest I always confessed my sins to) said, “And are you sorry for all these sins you committed?’ And I would answer,” Yes, Father.” And then, for penance, he would tell me to” say three Hail Marys and three Our Fathers.” I  hadn’t committed any sins other than lying to the priest once a month about my sins.

Although the nuns were strict with all kids, they were particularly strict and tough on the boys, especially in the eighth grade. The nun that taught my eighth-grade class didn’t seem to have a problem pushing a boy down a flight of stairs if he acted out. I never understood why they were allowed to do that to anyone. At one point, I decided to tell my parents what was going on in school. And my mother said, “Do you want me to go up and talk to the nuns?” I said, “No.” Because I was afraid, that would make everything worse. Looking back, I wish I had told my parents to talk to the nuns to stop abusing me and the other kids.

In addition, my parents shouldn’t have left it up to me to decide what should be done. They should have taken matters into their own hands and complained to the school or perhaps removed me from Catholic School and enrolled me in the local public schools.

In addition, I live two houses away from the Catholic School, so whenever the nuns needed help in the classroom after school, during Summer break, or after a snowstorm, I was called in to help. Also, I had to go up to the convent where the nuns lived. It was about five blocks from my home. And I had to clean the storage room where the nun’s canned food was stored. And clean the cans and the room from top to bottom once a week. I’m not sure, but it’s possible that my parents were getting a discount on the Catholic School tuition because of the work we did in the convent, and in the school, in the summer and in the winter.

Of course, not all my experiences in Catholic School were negative ones. I made a great many friends. And I learned how to spell and do basic math. But, what I learned most thoroughly was English Grammar and writing. And to this day, I appreciate this skill that I’m still benefiting from in my writing and my ability to express myself verbally and in the written word.

I learned self-discipline and how to work hard and be thorough in everything I attempted to do in life. And overall, I have to say in every job I ever had in my life, I always excelled. I benefited from what the nuns taught me, albeit hard-won lessons.

This is me writing a new story.

I don’t really know how Catholic School children are disciplined nowadays. But, I hope by this point, the Catholic Schools and teachers have some deeper understanding and knowledge about child development and keeping control of a classroom without verbal and physical abuse of any kind. When I got married and had children, I enrolled them in public school. There was no way I would have wanted them to have the same experiences that I and my generation had to endure in the 1950s and ’60s.

So, overall, Catholic School was not entirely a negative experience, but it is one I wouldn’t want to repeat. It helped shape who I am to this day, and that is a strong, moral, hard-working, intelligent, and creative person who is not afraid of trying something new to this day. I am self-confident about my skills and my abilities. I’ve had to face many challenges during my life, but here I am, still intact and ready to face anything life has to offer me. In other words, What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger comes from an aphorism of the 19th-century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. It is generally used as an affirmation of resilience.

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AND THEY’RE OFF

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As far back as I remember in my childhood, I recall my father talking about the Garden State Race Track in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. My father was a man who liked to gamble, play cards and bet on the horses. For years he bought lottery tickets. He even bought 55O cards from the Catholic Church. On one occasion, my mother and my father celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary, and they spent a weekend at a hotel on the Boardwalk in Atlantic City. My father played the slots and played cards. The trip was a wedding anniversary gift for my parents from my siblings and me. It was the first time my mother actually had a vacation of any sort.

I recall my father calling his bookie on our kitchen phone and placing bets. And occasionally, my father would bring my mother and me with him when he drove into Philly at night to place a bet directly with his bookie. For my mother and myself, it was an outing to the city. As we rarely went anywhere out of town, let alone visiting Philadelphia.  My father- 1960's

But one of the most outstanding memories I have is of my father and the Garden State Race Track, which was located in Cherry Hill, New Jersey—a town next to Maple Shade, New Jersey, where I grew up. My father won a photography contest through the local newspaper, the Courier Post. He took two photographs of a race at the Garden State Track. One was a panoramic image of the crowd watching the horses take off, shouting and screaming and jumping up and down. The second shot was of that same crowd looking in the opposite direction tearing up their tickets and throwing them in the air, and then slowly floating down to the grounds if they lost their bets. My father submitted these pictures, and they appeared on the front page of the Courier Post, and he won prize money.

I don’t know how much money my dad won. But it was probably more money than he ever had in his pocket at any one time. And so my father invited all my siblings, including myself, to go out to dinner at a restaurant that my sister-in-law’s brother owned. It was the one and only time that we all went out to dinner together with my parents. And it is one of my best and fondest memories of my family together and laughing and enjoying our time together as a family.

The Garden State track spurred a lot of activity and entertainment-oriented growth in Cherry Hill. In addition to the Garden State Track, a man whose name was Mori developed the Race Tack. He built the Cherry Hill Inn and the Cherry Hill FarmLogdge, and then finally, the Cherry Hill Shopping Center. Not to mention the fabulous and luxurious Rickshaw Inn on the opposite side of the Garden State Park Race Track. And eventually, The Latin Casino, where stars such as Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Liberace appeared to entertain the locals near and far. 

And addition, I took an adult night class at Cherry Hill High School, and it was being taught by none other than Jack Engelhard, the writer. He is known for his love of horse racing at the Cherry Hill Race Track and for writing books such as The Horseman, which became almost automatically a best seller, Indecent Proposal, and many more. It was his night class that inspired me to continue writing and growing as a writer. He often spoke of his love of horse races and the Garden State Track. And I have been doing just that. I have written a book and over three hundred short stories. You can find these stories at:https://susanaculver.com.

And then, I was offered an opportunity to show some of my Art Work at the Garden State Track, and I jumped at the chance. You can see one of my more popular artworks, a drawing illustrated in this blog. It is called “The Race.”.

The Race

So, as you can see, my father’s love of Horse Racing and gambling has been an inspiration of sorts. Although I had never been a gambler at heart before I moved to North Carolina, I hit the gambling machines at Trump Casino in Atlantic and took home $900.00 right out of his {Trump’s} pocket, you could say. So, when you play, you win some, you lose some. But you just got to know when it’s time to fold up those cards and hit the road. At the same time, you have more than lint in your pockets.

And maybe sometime in the future, before my time runs out, I’ll find my way back to Cherry Hill and revisit my father’s favorite place on the planet. Although it has changed and evolved over time since my Dad passed away, he probably wouldn’t recognize it. So, maybe it’s better to keep those memories safe and hidden away. I will always treasure those memories of my father and what an interesting and complex man he was. He was a voracious reader on every subject, including Eastern religions, although he never went to church.

My father inspired me with his example to continue to learn and grow and be creative. In fact, his lifelong example of his thirst for knowledge inspired me to go to college when I was thirty-six. I applied to all the art schools in the Philadelphia area and was accepted at all of them. I chose to attend Temple University, Tyler School of Art. And I graduated at forty in the top ten percent of Temple’s graduating class. It was one of the best experiences I ever had and one that I am immensely proud of. And I want to thank my father for his example of continuing to grow and learn throughout my life.

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COMING OF RETIREMENT AGE AS A BABY BOOMER

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I have spent the last seven years since I retired reflecting on my life and experiences. And how those experiences have influenced the person I have become. I believe my parents had the most effect on the development of my personality.

My father worked hard his entire adult life as the Head Dispatcher for SEPTA for over forty years to provide for our family. He was strict and had high standards. He expected his children to achieve. He also had a short fuse, and woe be the person who behaved in a way that he disapproved of. My mother was a kind and loving person who never said anything hurtful to anyone in her life. At times she worked outside of our home, cleaning other people’s houses and cleaning the public school, and occasionally she did ironing for other people.

     When I was attending St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy, she worked in the employee’s kitchen at Wanamaker’s Department Store to help offset the cost of the tuition. She was in her early sixties at the time. She was a deeply devout woman and went to Mass every day of her life.

St. Mary of the Angels Academy

Every afternoon she could be found saying the rosary in her bedroom.

I was born into a family of four children, and I have a fraternal twin. Having six children was not an unusual size family when I was born in 1951. I had friends who had eleven children in their families. Since there was no reliable form of birth control at the time. And the Catholic church frowned on birth control.

I grew up two houses down from Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church and elementary school. I attended twelve years of Catholic School and eight years at OLPH Parochial school. And then four years at St. Mary of the Angels Academy. Which was an all-girl school located in Haddonfield, New Jersey.

For those of you who are not familiar with the Baby Boomer Generation, I have noticed over the years that many of us share similar characteristics. Characteristics were no doubt modeled by our parents. We have a strong and focused work ethic. We worked hard for everything we achieved, and it was not handed to us. We are not afraid of challenges.

     And even now, those of us who are retired engage in volunteer work. Before I retired, I took a class to learn how to teach English as a second language to people who migrated to the USA and spoke limited English. In addition, I taught Basic Skills to people who didn’t have the opportunity to finish high school and wanted to get a GED so that they were able to get better-paying jobs.

The Boomers learned how to be self-reliant and independent and have strong work ethics. We are self-reliant and confident and are not afraid to challenge any practices in our workplace. We had to learn to be competitive in our search for employment since there were so many people in our generation and, therefore, competition for employment in the workplace.

For those of us who wanted to attend college but whose families could not afford to send us, we set goals to do so outside the norm—for instance, going to junior college and going to school over time to earn college degrees. As for myself, I made the decision to attend college at the age of thirty-six. I had two children at home at the time. I applied to Temple Tyler School of Art and the Hussian School of Art, and Moore College of Art, which was a woman’s college. I was accepted at all the schools I where I applied.

Tyler School of Art

      I made the decision to attend Temple University in Philadelphia because they offered me a full scholarship for the first year based on my portfolio. I graduated from Temple University when I was forty years old. My children were ten and seven at the time. It was a challenge to balance my role as a parent, wife, and college student. I often only had two or three hours of sleep at night during the week. And during the summer, I used to babysit the daughter of a friend of mine. I graduated in the top ten percent of Temple University with a 4.0 average and two degrees, Fine Art and Art Education.

When I  graduated from Temple University, I found that there were precious few teaching positions in public schools for Art teachers since public schools in the early 1990s were cutting back their budgets in Art and Music. After applying to every school in the three surrounding counties for almost a year, I decided that I was going to start my own school. We decided to move to a bigger home that could accommodate teaching art. And we found it in Pitman, New Jersey. The house was over 4,000 square feet and used to be owned by a Doctor of neuropsychology. He and his wife had passed away over eight years before that. And as you can imagine, the house was in need of a great deal of work since the house had remained empty for all those years. And so, the first thing we had to do was have a new roof on the home. 

I spent many months working and painting the doctor’s three patients’ rooms and preparing them for classrooms to teach art. I spent many years teaching students that came to my classes, both children during the day and adults at night. I taught classes in drawing and painting and the basics of three-dimensional art.

     It was fulfilling and challenging work. We lived in that house for twenty-four years. We sold it when we were preparing to retire to North Carolina. It was extremely difficult to leave our home since we had put so many years living there and improving it for years. This  Included a garden that I created over many, many years. We ended up selling the house to a younger couple that had two children. The husband was a lawyer who set up his office in what had been my art studios. I have to admit the day that we went to the settlement was one of the most difficult days of my life. I still miss that house and all the friends and neighbors that we had come to love in our twenty-four years in Pitman.

I believe that my personality and the influences that surrounded me growing up in the Baby Generation gave me the confidence and willpower to meet challenges in my life that were often difficult. Over my lifetime, I moved from my parent’s home to my own apartment when I was twenty. I moved to Florida when I was twenty- two to be near the young man I fell in love with. And eventually, we were married and moved to Santa Barbara, California, where my husband attended Brooks Institute to study Photography. We moved back to New Jersey when he graduated and bought a small house in Pennsauken, NJ, where we lived for fourteen years and had our two children, who are now adults.

Animal Edventure Susan talking to Montana a cocatoo

Animal Edventure Susan talking to Montana, a cockatoo.

And now here I am in North Carolina, where we moved to at retirement. And we didn’t know a soul here but made our home here all the same. I volunteered as a Guardian Ad Litem in the Smithfield Court House, representing at-risk children. And for the past seven years going on eight years, I have been volunteering at an animal sanctuary called Animal Edventure, where I have taken care of Macaws, Parrots, and Pheasants. I’m still going strong and don’t have any plans to stop at any time in the near future. I almost forgot to mention that I created WRITE ON, my writer’s blog on the internet, and have been writing and publishing a new story every week going on six years.

I don’t know what else I may do in the future but have no doubt I will continue to create and grow for the remainder of my life, for however long that may be. I will keep on, keeping on. Have no doubt—Susan A. Culver, artist, and writer.

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MY PARENTS WERE THE GREATEST INFLUENCE ON WHO I AM TO THIS DAY

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I take after my father in many ways. My father would squeeze a nickel until the buffalo shit. I kid you not. Now don’t get me wrong, we never went without our basic needs met. We ate well, we got new shoes every year, or whenever we outgrew the shoes we were wearing. The four youngest children in my family, which included myself, all attended Catholic School through high school.

My father worked for over forty years at SEPTA, which is the South Eastern Pennsylvania Transportation Company. He was the head dispatcher in charge of scheduling buses, trolleys, and drivers. As a child, of course, I didn’t realize the responsibility of my father’s job. I just knew that I didn’t see him every day, depending on the shift he worked. For most of my childhood, he worked on the second or third shift. And therefore, he was often asleep when I arrived home from school, and we weren’t allowed to make any noise. Because we would wake him up, and woe was he or she that woke my father up.

In addition, my father had an active personal life outside of his job and home. He spent time at the Cherry Hill Race track, following and betting on the horses. He also played cards for money. He had friends that my mother and siblings and I had never met.

He was also a highly creative man. When I was a child, he had a workshop in our basement complete with power tools from drills and routers, planers, jigsaws, etc., etc. Our cellar was kept in pristine order at all times. My father was extremely orderly and neat. The floors and walls, and ceiling in the basement were painted white. It was so clean you could eat off the floor. He had a desk and a typewriter down there. And eventually, he added a dark room because he became interested in photography. In fact, once he won a photography contest that the Courier-post (our local Jersey paper) was running. And he won a sum of money that allowed him to take our whole family out to dinner—something we had never done before.

One year my father decided to build a fence in our front yard, and he made the front section which tuned out beautifully, but I guess he lost momentum or interest because he never finished the side sections.

Mom sitting at the kitchen table,

My father had a unique view of the world, and because of that, the things he created in the basement were one of a kind. He made a glass fireplace in our living room which was lit from within with Christmas lights. And instead of a fire burning in the fireplace, there was a mirror. And we had a chandelier hanging over our kitchen table that was a wagon wheel that he attached lights that he had purchased at the Pennsauken Mart. The Pennsauken Mart was a precursor to a Mall in that there was a large building that held many different stores within it. Oh, the treasures he found at the Mart! My father was an old fashion man in some ways since he was born in 1911.   Occasionally he took me with him to the Pennsauken Mart, and I would meet some of the people that worked there whom he had befriended over the years. One of those people owned a fruits and vegetable store. And my father referred to him as the Chinaman, as if that was his name. And my father had been going to this man’s store for years.

My father liked to garden as well. He built an arbor over our front step and planted climbing red roses that grew over it throughout my whole childhood. He also planted a Lilac bush next to the front sidewalk that emitted a glorious aroma all Spring and Summer Long. At one time, he planted a rose garden in the backyard. And it was gorgeous. But, at some point, my father decided he no longer wanted roses in the backyard and mowed them all down. My mother was heartbroken. He never told her he was cutting them down. He also cut down the enormous Willow Tree we had without any warning. I remember how much I used to love to sit under that tree in the summer and read. I never understood what forces drove my father to do some of the things he did or some of the things he said to people.

House where I grew up

My father was a voracious reader as well, he was not a religious man, but he was fascinated by Eastern religions like Buddhism and Confucianism, and he studied them for years. The peculiar thing was that he never attended church or Mass even though we lived two houses down from Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church. And my mother used to go to Mass every morning. He did, however, often go to the church or rectory if they needed anything repaired. He was a complex person. I often wanted to ask him if he was an atheist. But I never did because my father did not like anyone to ask him personal questions.

As I grew older, my father started sharing some of his childhood experiences and his early adulthood with me. My father’s father died when he was quite young, and his mother struggled to survive. She ended up placing my father at Girard College, where he lived and was educated until he was sixteen. His mother was allowed to visit him once a year. At that time, Girard College was a school for young boys who had lost their fathers. I can not say how this experience of growing up in an orphanage shaped my father, not to mention losing his own father at such a young age.

Upon reflecting on my father over my lifetime, I realized that although the circumstances of our lives were different, I had developed many of the same traits as he displayed over his lifetime. I am a highly creative person who enjoyed making things from a young age. I loved to draw and make things from found materials. I like to garden, and once I learned to read in first grade, the Maple Shade library became a favorite haunt of mine. All the librarians knew my name since I came there so often that I wore out my library card. My ability to make things from bits of random things was certainly a talent that I derived either by watching my father or an inherited trait.

However, the trait that I share to this day is that I never waste anything. I use everything up. I use my creativity to create art or sew clothes, and my great love of reading inspired me to start writing stories, both fiction, and memoirs. It goes without saying that my desire to treat all people equally, my empathy for all people, and my desire to help people wherever and whenever I can from my dear mother, who never had a hateful thought in her entire life. She was the kindest, most hard-working person I ever knew.Childhood Home

I don’t know how many years lie ahead of me, but I hope I will not waste a single moment of it. My plan is to keep going without taking a breath and continue to do good in the world. And to continue writing, painting, and making things. And without a doubt love animals that have always given me love, acceptance, and companionship throughout my life.

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THE BEST AND WORST MOMENTS OF MY LIFE

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I have arrived at that time in my life when I reflect on the most important and life-changing events I have experienced. One of the biggest challenges I have faced in recent years is acknowledging that I am no longer young and have arrived at the final years.

home in Pitman, New Jersey, 1994- 2016

Over the course of my life, I have had ups and downs. I have suffered losses, and I have experienced successes. At the end of May, I will be celebrating my seventy-second birthday. I often find myself wondering how time passed so quickly. I can say that I have few regrets about my decisions and choices.

When I graduated from high school, I found a job as a dental assistant through my school counselor. Back in the day, in the ‘70S, dentists hired inexperienced young women and then trained them to be chairside assistants who ran the office, answered the phone, made appointments, and confirmed appointments. In addition, I developed the xrays and was responsible for sending out the bills and cleaning the office. Occasionally I even babysat the dentist’s children.

I was given a great deal of responsibility for an eighteen-year-old girl. But as it turned out, I proved myself to be highly efficient at running the office. And I enjoyed working there for a number of years. I worked for Dr. E. G. Wozniak in Haddon Township, NJ.

I was able to purchase a brand new 1970 yellow Volkswagen, rent my own apartment, and live on my own. That job taught me so much more than the skills it took to be a dental assistant. It confirmed to me that I was able to meet any challenges that came my way. I was a confident young woman from that point forward.

When I was twenty-two, I started dating my best friend’s cousin, Bob. And  I decided I wanted to move to Florida, where Bob lived. We got married when I was twenty-three, and he was twenty-five. I was laid off from the insurance company the week after we came back from our honeymoon. I wasn’t able to find a job. And made the decision to go to a hairdressing school, the West Palm Beach Beauty Academy. After completing the eighteen-month program, I was hired to work at the Collonades Hotel, located on Singer Island.  I did hair and facials.

Bob decided that he wanted to attend Brooks Institute in Santa Barbara, California, two years later. Brooks was a school for Photography. We lived in California until he graduated from school three years later. My first job in California was at Robinson’s Department Store selling hats and wigs. I can not tell you how boring that job was. However, I made a friend named Terry Ropfogel, and she told me there was a residential school, St. Vincent’s School, where she volunteered. She told me that they were looking for full-time childcare workers. I loved little kids, so I applied for a job. I kept calling them once a week until they agreed to interview me for a job. I was hired shortly thereafter.

Working at St. Vincent’s turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life. The kids were mildly retarded, and some of them had behavior problems.  I must admit that I came to love them like they were my children when Bob graduated from Brooks three years l after we decided to move back to the Philadelphia, New Jersey, area. I wanted to move to the New York City area because I believed Bob would be able to get a job as a photographer there. Bob decided he wanted to buy a house, and he got a job as an electronics technician. And at that point, we purchased a house with the assistance of the Veteran’s benefits that Bob earned while he was in the Navy.

Picture of me and one of my co-workers Stacy Smitter at St. Vincent’s School in California

A year later, Bob and I had our first child, Jeanette. by then, we had been married for seven years. Three years later, I had a second daughter, Bridget. I had always loved kids and wanted to be a mother. And it turned out to be one of my most challenging life experiences. We lived in that small, three-bedroom house in Pennsauken, New Jersey, for thirteen years when our children were young.

My parents passed away eight months apart in 1986 when my children were five and two years old. My dad had lung cancer, and my mother passed away from a complete respiratory and coronary arrest. My mother told me before she passed away that she didn’t regret any of the decisions she had made during her life but only regretted all the things she hadn’t done. Her words had a profound effect on me. The year after she passed away, I decided that I would go to college, which I didn’t have the opportunity to do when I was of college age since I had to get a full-time job when I graduated from high school.

And so, I prepared a portfolio of my artwork and applied to the Hussian School of Art and the Tyler School of Art in Philadelphia. I was accepted at both schools. But, I made the decision to attend the Temple Tyler School of Art because they offered me a full scholarship for the first year and financial aid for the second, third, and fourth years.

Tyler School of Art

And so, at the age of thirty-six, I began college as a Freshman, the only adult student. The rest of the Freshman students was seventeen or eighteen years old. Some of them hadn’t even gotten their driver’s licenses yet. I could write an entire book about my art college experience, and perhaps I will someday. Needless to say, it was a challenging and sometimes difficult four years. I graduated Summa Cum Laude at the age of forty with teaching credentials. My class stood up at graduation and clapped when my name was called out as a graduating senior. I have to say going to college was probably the best choice I ever made. And although it was challenging, to say the least, I never regretted it for a single moment. My children were ten and seven when I graduated.

After graduation, I applied to every elementary, middle, and high school for an art teacher position. Unfortunately, it turned out that the New Jersey public schools were eliminating the art programs in their schools, and I wasn’t able to find a public school teaching position.

After about a year, I realized I could create my own private art school. And my husband and I started looking for a house that could accommodate our family and several rooms to be used for my art classes. And after several months of looking at residences, I found a house in Pitman, NJ, that had been owned by a neuropsychologist that had been empty for several years since his passing. After several months we were able to purchase it. It had been empty for several years, and we spent the first several; years repairing it and had to put a new roof on it. We lived there for twenty-four years. And I taught art there for many years to kids from four through high school and adults in the evening. Overall it was a wonderful experience, and I met and befriended many of the people who lived in Pitman while teaching there.

When we were ready to retire, we spent the last year we lived there preparing the house for sale. We loved that house so much, and it was difficult to leave it, but it was necessary to sell it since we couldn’t afford to keep it after we both retired from working.

We chose to retire to North Carolina and bought a house about forty-five minutes from Raleigh, NC, in Willow Spring. We have been living here for seven years. During those seven years, I have been doing volunteer work in the Guardian ad Litem in the NC Court. The Guardian Litem are citizens that volunteer to investigate at-risk children and make decisions about their care and where they should live if there is a problem within their homes. And in addition, for the last seven years, I have been volunteering at an animal sanctuary caring for Parrots, Macaws, and Pheasants. The sanctuary is called Animal Edventure, and it is located in Coats, NC. I have always loved animals, and it seemed a perfect match for me at this time of my life. 

In addition, five and a half years ago, I started this blog and write short stories and memoirs for WRITE ON. I write one new story a week. I also continue to create my artwork in my free time. Who knows what the future holds for me? I am a person with a high energy level, and I hope that in the future, I will continue to contribute in some way for the rest of my life. I can not imagine not doing so. I have always had the desire to do good in my life and be kind to the people I met along the way. I can not imagine wanting to do else wise.

So, here we are, living out our lives in North Carolina. Our youngest daughter lives with us. And although the last several years have been challenging because of the pandemic and inflation, we keep moving forward from one day to the next.

I can not say what lies in my future and that of my family, but I hope my good health will continue, life will give us challenges to meet, and we will succeed in all our endeavors.

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BROKEN HEART, A MEMOIR

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It was June of 2007, and I was fifty-six years old. I hadn’t been feeling myself. I began feeling short of breath when I went up the steps or had to carry anything heavy. And then I began having pains that ran up and down my arm and under my chin. I tried to ignore it for as long as I could.

Set Lines heartbeat normal, arrhythmia and ischemia. Line cardiogram heart on white background. Vector illustration. electro-cardiogram

The symptoms got worse, and I decided that I needed to go to the doctor and find out what was going on. I went to my primary doctor for a check-up, and she recommended I go to a Cardiac specialist. She gave me a referral to a cardiologist Dr. Fox. He checked my blood pressure and weight and asked for my family history. I told him that my mother had congestive heart failure and she had died at the age of seventy-six from complete respiratory and cardiac arrest.

He arranged for me to have a cardiogram and echo, an electrocardiogram, and a cardiac catheterization at the Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital in Camden, NJ. When I returned to the heart doctor’s office to hear the results of the tests, he informed me that I had heart failure and that the left side of my heart was enlarged. He put me on a low dose of blood pressure medication and cholesterol medication. He advised me to come back in six months. He believed my heart failure was due to long-term untreated high blood pressure. I assured him that I had never had high blood pressure, but he insisted that I did. He told me to schedule a visit in one year to repeat the tests.

A year later, I was feeling worse, and he stated that he was going to repeat all the tests and see what changes had taken place in my heart. I told him that I wasn’t coming back since I didn’t believe he had done anything to improve my heart issues, And I wanted to take copies of my test results when I left the office that day. I was extremely upset over his lack of concern for my well-being.

Doctors diagnose human heart

I spent the next several weeks looking for a new cardiologist and was finally referred to Dr. Drachman in Cherry Hill, NJ. After my visit with Dr. Drachman and his cardiac nurse, Sandy Soloman, I was told that my former doctor hadn’t even put me on a dosage of medication that would have affected any improvement. And so first he was going I was going first to have an echocardiogram, and then he was going to put me on a beta blocker and a higher dosage of blood pressure medication. He wanted me to return to his office every three months to see him as he slowly titrated the levels of the heart medication. As I was going out of his office, I asked him what my outcome was going to be. He looked at me and said, you have congestive heart failure. You may live another five years. But, it was possible that with proper treatment, I could live longer. I would have to follow his medical advice. He couldn’t guarantee how long I might live, to take it one day at a time.

His words hit me like a blow. I really had no idea how seriously ill I was. Dr. Drachman diagnosed me with congestive heart failure, a weakened heart valve, and cardiac insufficiency. In fact, the left side of my heart was enlarged and had been for some time. I was shocked, to tell the truth, I had just turned fifty-seven years old. I had been a vegetarian for over twenty-five years. I had worked out at a gym for years. And I walked several miles every day at the park every morning.

He told me to stop lifting weights, but I could continue walking as long as I didn’t experience any chest pains. On the ride home from the doctor’s office, I felt like I had been hit by a Mack truck. I couldn’t believe that I had five or fewer years left in my life. I felt I still had so many more things to do in my life. I wasn’t ready to give up. And I didn’t.

When I came home from the doctor’s office, I told my family what the doctor had said, and I have to admit I cried when I said the doctor said, “if you are lucky, you will live another five years. I tried to maintain at least the outward appearance that I was going on with my life as before, but honestly, I became quite depressed. I had difficulty accepting that I was going to die when I had done everything I could do during my adult life to be healthy. Apparently, I had inherited heart failure.

At some point, I made the decision that I was wasting what time I had left being depressed, and I tried to enjoy each day and not dwell on my illness. And over time, I started feeling a lighter spirit come to me and lift me out of my depression.

I followed my doctor’s orders and returned to his office every three months to get a check-up, and he increased the dosage of my heart medication. I was now taking five heart medications. Over time my condition stabilized, although I still had an enlarged left side of my heart. The angina pains I had experienced for about a year and a half decreased. I tried to maintain a more optimistic view of life. And filled my days with things that I enjoyed taking long walks in the park every morning, painting, and I began writing.

one of my paintings, “THE TRINITY”

As a result of having the good luck to find a doctor that cared about my well-being, I have slowly improved over time, and now I’m able to be physically active and have little or no pain. So, my husband and I began planning for our retirement, and we made the decision to move to North Carolina, where we could live in a milder climate, as cold weather in the North East had a detrimental effect on my breathing and well-being. Shortly before my husband and I retired, I received a call from Sandy Soloman, my cardiac nurse, telling me that there was a new medication available for my particular heart condition called Entresto. She strongly suggested that I start taking it. At first, I was somewhat concerned about changing my meds since I was feeling stable for the past several years. But I trusted her advice, and I began taking the Entresto twice a day, along with three other heart meds.

So, here I am, seven years later, retired and living in a quiet neighborhood in North Carolina, about a one-half hour outside of Raleigh, NC. I have been volunteering for the past seven years, three mornings a week, at an animal sanctuary. I  care for parrots, Macaws, and pheasants. In addition, I began writing a blog with my original short stories and memoirs. I  continue painting.

I found a new cardiologist at Duke University, Dr. Abraham, who sees me once a year to make sure that all is well with me. And so far, I am doing well and plan to continue in the same vein for as long as I can.

Hopefully, I will have many good years ahead of me. Who knows what the future may hold for me. But I look forward to whatever surprises lie in my path with anticipation. So fear not. Do not ever give up on yourself, no matter what difficulties you might have to face. Try to keep a positive outlook on your life and your future, and never give up on yourself. You never know what strength lives within you until you are tested. Do not give up because you may have to encounter some bumps along the way. And I look forward to celebrating my 72nd year on this planet on May 24th of this year.

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YOU GOT IT MADE IN THE SHADE

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Maple Shade, New Jersey, is the name of the small town where I was lucky enough to spend my childhood until I moved to my own apartment in Haddonfield, New Jersey when I turned twenty-one. 

Maple Shade has a long history dating back to 1672. It was originally an agricultural community. And was called Chester Township. It wasn’t until 1947 that the Carberry family moved there in what was still primarily a rural township but one that was growing and becoming more modern.

By the time I arrived, it was a thriving small town with its own downtown where there were several banks, a post office, a police station, and its own fire company. The downtown consisted of a bakery, Ben Frankling 5&10, a Rexall Drug Store, and an A & P Grocery store, and we had our own Doctor’s office consisting of Dr. Hartman and Dr. Bukley. And my favorite haunt, The Ice Cream Stand.

As I look back over my life, I realize that I was lucky to grow up in Maple Shade in the early 1950s. I doubt I could have had a more idyllic childhood anywhere else. The fact that I was a part of the baby boomer generation played a great part in it. My generation was given a tremendous amount of freedom by our parents. When we weren’t in school, we were allowed to go and come as we pleased. As long as we came home in time for lunch and dinner. My parents never asked me where I was going before I went out for the day. And when I returned, they didn’t really inquire what I had gotten up to or whose house I went to. 

In addition to the downtown section of Maple Shade, there were Tar Pits. Where my friends and I would spend hours exploring and digging and looking for treasures, of course, my friends nor I would tell our parents what we were up to, which made it all the more fun for us.

And then there was the Roxy Theater on Main Street, where we kids could go to see the latest movies for twenty-five cents on Saturday morning. I can remember so clearly the Saturday that my friends and I attended a movie at the Roxy Theater called the Village of the Dammed. About these eerie blond-headed and blue-eyed children with extraordinary intelligence that were targeted by the government because they feared they were aliens who might take over the planet. It was a scary movie for that time period. And then, when my friends and I left the theater after the movie, all the kids started pointing at me and saying I was one of these creepy children, as it just so happened that I had blond hair and blue eyes.

In addition to the theater, Maple Shade provided a bus ride back and forth to a roller rink in Riverside. A town about a twenty-minute bus ride away. Where we could use roller skate all day for fifty cents, and that included the skate rental. I spent a great deal of my time falling down and getting up. And saving myself by slamming into the wall. I wasn’t a very good skater, but I loved it all the same.

The Forth of July was the best day of the year for kids. First, there was a parade that went down Main Street all the way up to the border of Lenola. We would all decorate our bikes with red, white, and blue streamers. And then, after dark, the kids in Maple Shade would go outside their houses with sparklers and run up and down their streets.

But my favorite, by far, was Halloween. As soon as it got dark out, all the kids in town would go out in their homemade costumes with empty pillowcases and go to every house in town to collect candy. And when that pillow case was full, we would stop at our homes and empty them and go out for more, and that included stopping at all the stores downtown and the police station. When we got home with all our goodies, we would go through the candy and separate the good stuff, chocolate, from the not-so-popular treats like candied apples. There was nothing that I loved more in life when I was a kid than candy. It’s hard to believe that I still have most of my teeth in my mouth.

But the absolute best holiday was Christmas, which also had its own parade in which Santa Claus was the main event. He would ride in the biggest, gaudiest float and throw candy at all the kids in town. The Main Street in Maple Shade was decorated from top to bottom with Christmas decorations and lights. Santa Claus would make an appearance at the Roxy Theater on stage and give out gifts to the kids at the Saturday Matinee, and then we would sit and watch a Christmas movie, and we would get a box of candy to take home with us.

Overall the memories that stand out the most to me of my childhood were the absolute freedom that we had as children when we were not in school on holidays, but most of all, during the long, hot summer, we could come and go wherever we wanted to. Our parents would say, be careful and make sure you get home in time for dinner. In the summer, we were allowed to go out after dinner until it was quite dark, and then we would hear our parents calling us at the top of their lungs that it was time to come in. And when we finally did arrive home, we were told not to let any mosquitoes come into the house. But, if some mosquitoes did manage to come in, we would spend the next hour trying to annihilate them. Because if one got in your room, one would get little sleep because of the constant buzzing in your ears. Not to mention all the mosquito bits that itched like crazy.

And this is hard to believe, but in the summer, there would be mosquito trucks that would travel up and down the streets, and we kids would follow behind them on our bikes, never realizing that the spray was DDT and toxic. Apparently, our parents had no clue either.

But that is one of the things about childhood. There are many bumps and bruises along the way, but if you survive them all, you grow stronger and fearless. So, when you finally outgrow your childhood, you are ready to face the bigger challenges of becoming an adult with all its slings and arrows.

So, yes, Maple Shade and all the similar little towns in America during the 1950s and ’60s were a great time to grow up and discover just what you were made of, and prepare you for a life that would be both challenging and full of both joy and sorrows. And frankly, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

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My Guardian Angel

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I grew up in Maple Shade, New Jersey. Our house was located two doors down from the Catholic Church. I attended Our Lady of Perpetual Help Elementary School. Maple Shade is a working-class town, which is located an hours drive from Philadelphia, Pa. The elementary school is right next door to the church. So, we were within shouting distance from the school and the church. Needless to say, going to Catholic School for twelve years had a profound and long-lasting effect on me as I was growing up.

The high school I attended was Saint Mary of the Angels Academy. It’s an all-girls college prep school. It was located in Haddonfield, New Jersey, which is a town that, for the most part, was inhabited by wealthy families. 

St. Joseph nuns taught me all through grade school except for third grade when I had a lay teacher Miss Norris, and the fifth grade when I had Mr. Mc Elliot. He was the only male teacher I had through twelve years of school. The St. Joseph sisters had a reputation as being strict. And not adverse to using physical punishment if you got out of line or disobeyed their instructions. I had my head knocked against the blackboard more than once. And my hand whacked with a ruler that had a sharp metal edge. Most often, I was caught whispering to one of my friends.

For the most part, I was a quiet child and kept out of trouble. But, occasionally, my mischievous nature would get the best of me, and I would act out. For instance, we had to attend Mass on Sunday at nine o’clock, and all the students sat in the same seats every Sunday.

I thought it was funny to get my girlfriends to start laughing about halfway through Mass which usually lasted about an hour. One Sunday, there happened to be an older woman sitting in front of me, and she had a coat hanger sticking out of her winter coat on the back of her neck. And every time she had to sit down, the hook of the hanger would poke her in the back of her neck. It was just out of reach of her hand, and so she was tortured by the hanger poking her for well over an hour. I thought this was hilarious, and so I pointed at the lady to all my friends sitting next to me in the aisle. And we would all laugh every time the hanger mauled her. We tried to keep the laughter down to a low roar, but we weren’t always successful.

Soon Sister St. Joseph would come sweeping down the aisle to admonish me with her giant rosery that would swing back and forth from her waist to admonish me. And she would warn us that if we better quiet down. And we would someday be punished for our sins. Hell, was the place she assured us would be the place we would end up in for all eternity.

I always felt this was a somewhat extreme punishment for children. And besides, it was a well-known fact taught to us by these self-same St. Joseph nuns that we all had a guardian angel assigned to us after we were baptized. And the guardian angel would protect us for all time. He would be sitting over our right shoulders. And it was his job to protect us from the slings and arrows that life threw at us, and that included Sister Saint Joseph and the threat of eternal fires of hell.

At the time I reached the eighth grade, my class was informed that we would have to take entrance exams if we wanted to continue with our Catholic education. There were two Catholic High Schools in the area. Holy Cross High School and St. Mary of the Angels Academy, an all-girl high school.

After we took the entrance exams, I was flabbergasted to find out that I not had not only passed the entrance exam but did quite well. I was sure that I had failed them. Since almost on a daily basis, one of the dear nuns would inform me of how stupid I was. It took many years for me to overcome my self-doubt regarding my intelligence and start to believe in myself and my intelligence, and rebuild my self-confidence.

Outside of the classroom and when I was on my own or with my friends, I felt confident in myself. It didn’t really occur to me that there was anything I couldn’t do. Even though it wasn’t true, I would often take chances and do things that were unsafe. During the summer, I wanted to go swimming. But the fact was I had never been in a pool or lake where the water was over my head. No one had ever taught me to swim. And yet, when our neighbors down the street had a built-in swimming pool installed. And I was determined that I was going to go swimming in that pool.

The Pheiffers were the only family that had a pool, and I was certain that they were rich beyond my wildest dreams. Of course, that wasn’t true. They were working-class people, the same as my parents. They just had fewer kids in their families. I would often walk down the street and knock at their door. And ask if I could go swimming. I guess I made somewhat of a pest, and eventually, they gave in. And they invited my best friend and me to go swimming in their pool on one of the hottest summer days. I was wearing one of my sister’s hand-me-down swimming suits that were a size too big for me. But that didn’t stop me from going swimming. And the fact that I had no clue how to swim didn’t dissuade me in the least. Mrs. Pheiffer informed me that I should not go into the pool by myself because she didn’t want anything untoward to happen to me or any of the other neighborhood kids.

And so, on that beautiful summer day, I walked down to the deep end of the swimming pool, counted to ten, and jumped in a while, holding my nose into water that was over six feet deep. The water wasn’t heated. And it was a shock when I hit the cold water and sank like a rock to the bottom, which was well over my head. I had no clue what to do. But it was clear to me that I was going to drown. I began flailing my arms and legs, trying to propel my head and shoulders out of the water. I was swallowing the water and gasping for air at the same time.

I started praying for my guardian angel to come and rescue me. I couldn’t imagine what he was waiting for. It was clear I wasn’t going to last much longer. So, I opened up my eyes, and I saw one of the other bigger kids nearby. It looked like Denny Pheiffer. He was several years older than me. And quite a bit bigger. When he got closer to me, I propelled myself toward him with whatever remaining strength I had left. And low and behold, I got close enough to him to grab hold of him around his stomach. He tried to push me off since I was pulling him down. But he soon realized that I wasn’t going to let go of him. And he started swimming toward the side of the pool that was a few feet away.

And after what seemed like an eternity, Denny managed to get the two of us to safety with no help from me. But, I got plenty of help from my guardian angel, who I had been praying two the whole time. It seemed like a lifetime but probably was only a few minutes. I grabbed ahold of the side of the pool, and Denny swam away. I started crying, and Denny’s older brother Joey was yelling for his mother to come outside. Mrs. Pheiffer demanded to know what had happened, and Denny said, “she grabbed ahold of me at the deep end and pulled us both under the water. She almost drowned us both.”

Mrs. Pheiffer said, “are you alright, Susie?”

“Yes, I am. My guardian angel saved me.”

And then Denny just snorted at me and said,” Oh yeah, right. So, how come you were hanging on me and almost drowned us both?”

“She saved us both. And I folded my arms in front of me, which is what I did when I had no desire to discuss something further. In other words, I was done talking. You could believe me or not.”

Mrs. Pheiffer said, “alright, I think it is a good time for all of you to go home. And Susie, you need to learn how to swim before you go into the deep end again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.” And I grabbed my towel and headed home and headed for my house, which was at the other end of the street, two houses down from Our Lady of Perpetual Help church. I decided that after I got changed, I was going to go up to the church and say a few prayers to thank my guardian angel for saving my life.

And that night, before I went to sleep, I said a prayer to my guardian angel. Angel of God, my guardian dear, To whom God’s love commits me here, Ever this day, be at my side, To light and guard, Rule and guide.

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THE HOME THAT MARIE AND HUGH BUILT

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This is a painting I did of my childhood home in Maple Shade, NJ in1987.

This is a painting I did of my childhood home in Maple Shade, Nj, in 1987.

It had been a long sixteen months since my parents passed away. My father died from lung cancer. I was certain my mother had died from a broken heart. Their marriage had been a difficult one at times. But nonetheless, my mother never recovered from his death. She seemed to be diminished in some way by her loss. They had married when she was nineteen years old. She didn’t know how to go on without him after he passed away.

When he was alive, his presence in the room, in the house, overshadowed her. It was as if his very presence diminished her. And yet, after he passed away, it seemed as if each day her energy, her presence, faded.

They had been married for fifty-seven years. She really didn’t have a life of her own before her marriage, and during their marriage, he orchestrated every moment of their lives. He decided where they would live and picked out the house without her ever seeing it. He chose all the furniture, the curtains, and the color each room was painted. He never asked her opinion. He was the man of the house. He used to refer to her as Mom. Rarely would he call her Marie.

Some days felt as if they would go on forever. At the same time, it felt like time had passed too quickly. It was hard to think about what the future held without my parents. I couldn’t imagine going through the rest of my life without their presence. My mother’s unquestioning love, my father’s energy, and intelligence, and his powerful presence.

But nonetheless, within eight months, they had both passed away. The house seemed so empty without them that I could hardly bare stepping inside the front door. After I cleaned out the house of all my parents’ belongings, including the well-worn furniture, it echoed when I walked in the front door and closed it behind me.

The last thing  I looked at before I closed the front door for the last time was the black telephone that had hung on the kitchen wall for as long as I could remember. As I stood there, I remembered all the phone calls I had made on it when I was a teenager. And how I called my best friend, Joanie, every day as soon as I got home from school. And I would ask if she would like to go for a ride on their bikes or go ice skating at Strawbridge lake.

And after my husband Bob and I moved back to New Jersey, we bought a small house in Pennsauken, a town fifteen minutes away from Maple Shade, where my parents still lived. I would call my mom and dad every morning to see how they were doing and tell them I would stop by later in the day.

My father would answer the phone and say, “hello, Susan, here’s your mother.” For some reason, he hated talking on the phone. And then he would hand over the phone to my Mother. My mom would say, “Hello, Susie.” I would say, “Hi, Mom, I was just wondering how you and daddy are doing. Is everything alright?”

My mother always said the same thing. “your father is reading the newspaper, and we just ate breakfast. I just got back from church. Are you coming over today?”

“Yes, Mom, I’ll be over in a little while. Do you need anything?” “No, your father went to the store yesterday. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

Later that day after I would come over with my two children and spend some time with my parents. My mother loved to let my youngest daughter sit on her lap. My daughter would play with my mother’s rosary while she sat there, or sometimes she would play with the scapular that hung from my mother’s neck.

Sometimes I would bring my haircutting scissors over to my parent’s house and give my parents a haircut. After I trimmed my mother’s hair, I would set it in bobby pins, and before I left, I would comb it out for her.

My father would sit at the table and read his newspaper silently. My mother would get up several times and refill his coffee cup while he smoked one cigarette after another. He would often tell me what all the neighbors were up to. Since he spent a greater part of the day watching them from the front kitchen window. And he would observe all the activity of any of the neighbors that were out and about. He often commented on how much trash they would put out on the curb.

After my father developed lung cancer, life changed drastically. He rarely got out of bed, and he had little, if anything, to say. If I went into his room, he would say, “leave me now.” Seeing my father looking so pale, thin, and quiet was heartbreaking. It seemed like he was just waiting for the end of his life to come so he could finally have peace.

After he passed away, my mother was never the same. I realized she couldn’t be left alone. So, I hired a woman named Doris Cook to stay with her during the week. And then, my siblings and I took turns having my mother stay at our houses. It was difficult for my mother because she had glaucoma and was unfamiliar with homes other than her own. She began to seem somewhat confused. However, Doris was a godsend, and my mother seemed to be comfortable with her. She was a kind and gentle person.

One night in August, I received a call from Doris that she thought my mother had had a heart attack. I told her to call an ambulance to take my mother to the hospital, and I would be there as quickly as I could. I only lived a few minutes away. My mother never recovered from the heart attack. It is so difficult to lose one’s parents. Until it happens to you can not imagine the sense of loss and emptiness you feel when your parents pass away. It’s almost like a part of you is missing.

As I looked over the house for the last time, I thought back to all the years that I lived there and then all the years afterward. I realized that every lesson I learned in life was a result of my parents. My father taught me to keep learning and growing as a person. And my love taught me how to love and be loved in return. She surely had a heart of gold. And that I was lucky enough to have them for as long as I did.

There aren’t words enough to say how much I loved them, my gratitude for all they did for me, the love, the caring, the sacrifice. I know that I will miss them for the rest of my life. And there hasn’t been a day that has gone by when I don’t think about them.

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LIFE AS I KNOW IT

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Did you spend most of your working life looking forward to the years that you would be able to retire and spend all your time doing things that you loved? And put behind you the humdrum, repetitious decades of working for a living? Working nine to five every week, week after week, month after month, and year after year? 

I have had many different types of jobs over my lifetime. When I was in my senior year of high school, I was offered a part-time job that would transition to a full-time dental assistant when I graduated from high school.

I hadn’t given too much thought to what I would do after my high school graduation, so I said, “yes, I would like to do that. And that is how I began my working life. I worked for Dr. Edward G. Wozniak for almost five years. After that, I sold high-risk auto insurance with the Ellis Brothers in Collingswood, NJ. This was a great job because the owners of the insurance firm, Evie and Harry Ellis, didn’t like working and would take my two workmates and me out to breakfast every morning. And they looked for any opportunity to skip work.

But then I started seeing a young man who I eventually married, and I moved to Florida. I was twenty-two. I decided to go to hairdressing school at the Florida Beauty Academy in West Palm Beach because I was laid off from an insurance company that I worked for in West Palm Beach after it went bankrupt. At the time, Florida businesses would only hire people who lived in Florida for at least six months.

I had difficulty getting a job at a hair salon. So I started looking for a job that required a license to do hair and facials. And luckily, I found out about a position at the Collonaides Hotel from a friend who attended hairdressing school with me, Maggie Waisanen. She was a woman in her early fifties, but we just hit it off, despite a thirty-year age difference. She was hired at the Collonades as well. She was giving massages.

I was hired to do facials at the Collonaides Health Center at the Collonaides Hotel on Singer Island. The hotel was owned by John D MacArthur, a well-known developer, and hotel owner. Whose wealth is better known today by the John D. and Katherine T. MacArthur Foundation, still a major holder of Palm Beach. He was about eighty-five years old at the time I met him. I used to see him sitting out by the built-in pool with his nurse. He was one of the wealthiest men in Florida at that time. After several years my husband Bob decided that he wanted to attend Brooks Institute for Photography in Santa Barbara, California.

And so Bob and I packed up our belongings, and we were on our way across the country from Florida to Santa Barbara, California. It was a ten-day drive, but it was a beautiful and scenic trip that I will never forget. Bob attended Brooks for three years. I worked at St. Vincent’s School as a counselor and as the assistant Supervisor. I took care of twelve adolescent girls who were mildly retarded. I have to say that this was my favorite job that I have had so far. I came to love those children with my whole heart, and it was difficult to say goodbye when Bob finished school at Brooks.

We decided to move back to New Jersey. I hadn’t lived in New Jersey for seven years, and I missed my family. Bob found employment, and after a short time, Bob decided he wanted to buy a house. Bob had served in the Navy during the Viet Nam war, so he was eligible to use Veteran’s benefits to purchase a house. And we were able to buy the house with no downpayment. It was located in Pennsauken, New Jersey, a short drive from Maple Shade, NJ. Where I grew up, and my parents still lived.

I found out I was pregnant within a year after we moved to our new house. Bob was working in Pennsylvania at the time. We had two children in four years. I stayed home with my children for seven years until they were in school. I was thirty-six by then, and I decided to go to college since I never had the opportunity to do that when I graduated from St. Mary of the Angels high school.

I applied to Temple University in Philadelphia, Pa, at the Tyler School of Art. I also applied to the Hussian School of Art and Moore College of Art. Which was an art school for women only. I was accepted at all the schools. I decided to attend Temple because they offered me a full scholarship for the first year. I was the only adult student in the Freshman Class. The rest of the class were straight out of high school and were seventeen or eighteen years old. It was a unique and challenging experience for me. I graduated four years later with a 4.0-grade point average and a BA and Art teaching certification. Later I earned a degree to teach exceptional children. (handicapped) 

I decided, after spending several months trying to get an art teaching job in public schools with no success, to open up my own art classes. At the time, the public schools had stopped funding Art Education in the Public Schools. We purchased a large home in Pitman, Nj. The house had formerly belonged to a neuropsychologist. He saw his patients in the home. After he passed away, the house was empty for eight years. I used his offices to teach art. The students were aged five and up to eighteen. And I taught adults in the evening. And that is what I did for many years.

The years seemed to fly by as my children grew up and attended college. My oldest daughter moved out and was married. Before I knew it, Bob and I were of retirement age, and we started planning on selling our home of twenty-four years and looking for a place to retire. We decided on North Carolina because of the temperate climate and the low real estate taxes.

And here I sit, fifty-plus years later, retired. Or my version of retired. And by that, I mean I retired and started collecting Social Security.

I hadn’t been living in North Carolina longer than a month when I decided that I wanted to start doing some type of volunteer work. I investigated all the opportunities available in the area. And I finally decided that I would volunteer for the Guardian Ad Litem. Which is a volunteer citizen to represent at-risk children in the court. I had to take a college course and be certified in order to serve as a Guardian Ad Litem in the court.

Unfortunately, it turned out that the volunteer position with the Guardian ad Litem took a great deal more of my time than I realized it would. And after a year, I decided that it wasn’t for me. Although I respected the work they did to be outstanding and to be highly beneficial to children at risk of abuse and neglect.

At the same time, I decided I would like to volunteer at an Animal Sanctuary as I have always loved animals as far back as I can remember. I found an animal sanctuary, Animal Edventure, that Is in Coats, NC, and was only a fifteen-minute drive from where I live. I have been working there for six years, three mornings a week, taking care of Parrots, Macaws, and pheasants.

In addition, I started writing a blog online that includes short stories and memoirs. I have been writing all my life, but this was the first time that I ever had anyone read my stories. It took courage to put my writing out there. But here I am, almost five years later.

I have no regrets about my life or my experiences. I never let fear stop me. I always had faith in my ability to be a success in whatever I did. I look back over my life and have good memories of the places I have lived and the people I have met and befriended. And the accomplishments that grew from hard work and perseverance, and keeping faith in myself and my abilities.

I know that I will continue to create both my artwork and my writing for as long as I have breath in my body. I can not imagine a life without expressing my creativity in some way. Who knows where life will take me next? I look forward to many more challenges. Life is short so be sure to live every day to the fullest.

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